Sunday, November 20, 2016

The Happy Death

The sweet scent of decomposing leaves
on grass of gold and green,
yawning with exhaustion.

The fingers of trees are
singed with first frost;

And cat’s ear, untouched
by the change so far, offers smiles
as bright as the noontime sun,
And welcomes the season
of soup and sweaters

as it basks upon the dying lawn.

Fall 2014… start of B.Ed. program. Part of me knew.

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